


sit down and shut up, christ

by rottedflowerpits



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff, M/M, Minor pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, because keith's always gone and we all miss him (shiro especially)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 16:38:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14217315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rottedflowerpits/pseuds/rottedflowerpits
Summary: I just wanted to get it out of my system, lel.





	sit down and shut up, christ

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to get it out of my system, lel.

Late night excursions weren't unheard of. 

Gravitating to the lions, even less so. They were a safe haven, a refuge; tons upon tons of weird space metal built to ravage and protect. After everything they'd been through, it was no wonder the paladins found themselves in their lions once the commotion settled into a lull.

They were safe, quiet, liminal spaces. And Keith was reading too much into it, to be honest. Black just felt safe because, well, Black was Shiro's. Black was back in Shiro's hands, and Keith sighed as he ran his palm against the metallic hide. 

Black rumbled faintly underneath the touch. A quiet noise, barely noticeable. But Keith heard it nonetheless, rippling into far-off echoes in the chamber of his mind. Echoes he'd follow later, if he had to. For the moment, his main and current goal was inside of Black. 

Shiro waited for him in the lion's depths, pale skin faintly illuminated by the violet of Black's interior. Keith climbed up through the escape hatch, his footsteps quiet but purposeful, a habit he'd honed and perfected while with the Blade of Marmora, and one that made Shiro jump as Keith closed the distance between them. 

“Whoa!” he laughed, jerking away from Keith's cold fingers. _These are as cold as ice,_ he'd always tease, but not before taking them into his own hands. Much like he was doing now, grabbing Keith's hands from his shoulders, and encasing them between his palms. Even with one made of star-dusted metal and warped comet compounds, it was as warm and as gentle as its human counterpart. 

Keith smiled, and Shiro reciprocated the gesture. 

“I was wondering when you'd come.” 

“I'm not one to keep others waiting now, am I?” 

Shiro chuckled, lips pursed in obvious, momentary mischief. 

“Hmm, I don't know,” he trilled, rolling his eyes to the side, his fingertips tracing the heart lines in Keith's palms. “You're terrible at gauging time...remember the one time we had a date five minutes away from the dorm rooms, and you showed up half an hour late?” 

Keith bristled, but there was a hard truth to Shiro's words. He swallowed them like a hard shot of whiskey, smiling with his teeth and sighing heavily between them. “Anyway,” he said. 

“Anyway.” 

Shiro grinned, reclining back in his seat. He'd taken his hands back to use them as a faux pillow, craning his head against them until an audible pop sounded from his neck. “How much longer are you here until the Blades will want you back?” 

Keith slid into Shiro's lap, unashamed at planting himself there like any other chair. Shiro grunted lightly at the weight, shifting subtly to accommodate it. “I assume a couple days at least,” Keith said, examining his shattered fingernails. One knuckle had adopted a visible curve, crooked and bumping against the other. Served him right for not letting it heal properly, he supposed. 

“Either way, we have time.” Keith smiled, head cocked innocently to the side. Shiro caught it, pulling Keith close by the corner of his jaw. 

“That's what I like to hear,” he murmured, his breath ghosting across Keith's lips. It held undertones that were distinctive of cloves, and something downright awful. Morning breath at best, food-from-the-night-accumulation at worst. Keith kissed it anyway, humming idly in agreement. 

“I just wish I could keep you,” Shiro muttered, balling his fists in the back of Keith's shirt. Every motion of his lips against Keith's grew slightly more desperate, dragging the air from his lungs. It was enough that Keith felt lightheaded, taking a moment to pull back with Shiro's lower lip caught between his canines.

“Wish in one hand,” Keith said, his words caught between kisses and teeth, “and shit in the other. See which one fills up faster.”

Shiro snorted. _“Almost_ ruined the mood,” he laughed, his hands all the more insistent as they grabbed Keith by the ass. Shiro jerked him forward, the motion wrenching a gasp and clench of the jaw from Keith. Shiro purred at the pressure, hands wrapping around Keith's lithe hips and holding them tight. 

Shiro urged him into a gradual grind, slow and hard and with a grip unrelenting. Shiro kissed him firmly, probing the depths of his dried cotton mouth. The kind of mouth Keith would have been hesitant to grace with his own tongue's presence, but Shiro held him by the back of his neck and kissed him like the nearest star was exploding and they had no escape. No escape but within each other, anyway. 

Keith gasped, pulling back from the nose-crushing motions. “Fuck,” he breathed, pressing himself as flat against Shiro as he could manage. Shiro's pulse thundered into into a ramming heartbeat, and Keith could feel it threatening escape against his own breastbone. Keith felt a distant urge to claw and tear into it, to reveal the glistening viscera and get as close as he could to Shiro's heart...

He growled, a deep noise that dipped with his body. “Off,” he muttered, fingers curled past Shiro's belt as he slid against Shiro's abdomen. They dug past the hem of his pants, tugging insistently, and with an expectant impatience for Shiro to pick up the slack on his own part. 

Shiro's fingers clicked against the metal of his belt's clasp, loosening it with well-oiled practice. Shiro let it hang open as opposed to slipping it off, piquing Keith's annoyance. He brushed it momentarily to the side, working the ends apart enough so they hung loosely around his hips—hips Keith nuzzled against as he tugged the front of Shiro's pants open, mouth watering at the sight of the base of his cock. 

It pressed against the hem of his briefs, nestled in the softness of his pubic hair. Keith moved to press his nose into it, breathing deep of Shiro's musk as his cold fingertips worked the rest of Shiro's length from the confines. 

“Keith,” Shiro breathed, his frame melting against the back of his chair. Black's interior lights had dimmed to a dark purple, just barely illuminating Shiro's features. They were cut through with harsh shadows, but the expression of oncoming bliss helped make him look more ethereal and beautiful than haggard and worn. Keith chased the image with fingers wrapped firm around Shiro's crown, and the noise he squeezed past Shiro's lips let him know he was gone. 

_“Keith,”_ Shiro groaned, again and again, a silent prayer that spilled into the humid air. Shiro rolled his cock into Keith's fingers, a motion Keith moved along with, slowly and languidly. 

“I know you've been waiting for this,” Keith mused, “but not yet. Geez.” 

Shiro laughed, his chest caving. “Y-you're right,” he breathed, visibly forcing himself to relax. He slowed his eager hips, and Keith offered him a smile in the low light. 

“It's not good to rush things, you know,” he said, working loose fingers over every subtle rise and bump of protruding veins and sensitive swells. “You're supposed to enjoy things. Patience, you know.” 

Shiro grimaced, the corner of his parted lips lifting into a faint smirk. “Yeah, yeah. I remember, I know...” 

Keith smiled, pleased with himself. It was easy to roll back onto the heels of his boots, one arm draped across his thigh as the other rested itself upon Shiro's. He lazily wrapped his gloved hand around Shiro's length and jerked, lightly and with teasing purpose. 

“I remember you were pretty good at this,” he mused, head cocked to the side. Keith kept his eyes on Shiro's dick, watching it jump and twitch with every passing stroke. “You were patient. You were good...” 

Shiro deliquesced underneath Keith's praise and his touch, boneless in his seat. Keith eyed his shuddering chest, his trembling thighs. It was a beautiful sight, and one he ruined with a harsh squeeze to the base of Shiro's cock. 

Shiro yelped, a choked noise of surprised pleasure and pain stitched together. He coughed, weakly laughing his momentary affront away. “Keith,” he chastised, bucking his hips subtly upward. “Come on, Keith, not tonight...” 

Keith quirked his brow, but hey; waging war and forming knots more complicated than the castle's circuitry system underneath one's skin fed into a certain kind of impatience. Keith could understand it, and he fell onto his knees proper, cradling Shiro's length in his palm. 

“If you insist,” he murmured, his eyes on Shiro's, his cheek pressed to soft, velveteen skin. Shiro met his gaze, shaking and unwavering, mouth agape like he was saying something. They were the beginning of words that babbled off into nonsense as Keith wrapped his lips around Shiro's tip, cheeks hollowed and sinking low along the shaft.

 _“Keith,_ sweetheart...” 

Shiro slid lower into his seat, up into Keith's mouth. The gradual force pushed him deeper, and Keith's accommodating mouth stretched wider to take it. 

“God, fucking hell, Keith.” Shiro laughed breathlessly, reaching down to tangle a fist in Keith's hair. It was a harsh grip, and Keith could feel the strands straining against his scalp. Shiro pulled him forward against his groin, and Keith let slip his gasp of surprise. 

Keith caught his composure, letting Shiro guide him. It was an easy glide, made possible by innumerable rounds of practice. Keith couldn't help but think fondly of their first time while Shiro stretched his jaw, remembering how it felt to choke on a cock for the first time. He moaned and Shiro did too, in tandem, completely blissed and, in all reality, thinking of other things. 

“I'll never be over how fucking good this feels,” he breathed, brushing his forelock from his face. His skin glistened in a delicate sheen of illuminated violet-tinted sweat, and Keith smiled around the dick in his mouth at the pretty sight. 

It was one of those moments where Keith felt the deep, yawning chasm of adoration and love open up inside his chest and let it cave. He bobbed his head with all the fondness of the universe, striving to give his lover, his partner, the best damn blowjob he could muster. 

Something silly, in the bigger picture of things, but hey. 

Keith leaned up, planting his palms firm on the love handles of Shiro's jutting hipbones. He could feel them twitch underneath his harsh grip, and Keith pushed more weight into his arms to keep Shiro where he sat. 

“Ah, fuck, _Keith-!_ ” 

Shiro bucked despite Keith's strength, nearly toppling him over. With determination at its finest, though, Keith used the momentum and sank back down along Shiro's length, swallowing him whole with brief intent in mind. 

Keith could feel it in Shiro's thighs before he started talking. A subtle tension to his muscles, the way his thighs clenched around Keith's head. It was the little things, and Keith fed into it with a groan of appreciative encouragement. 

"God, Keith," Shiro breathed, his chest stuttering to the rhythm of his undulating hips. They lost their tempo, growing frantic and erratic. Keith rose to the challenge, more so due to the fist in his hair, but that was beside the point. He _rose_ to the challenge, up on his knees, taking Shiro deep into his throat with every other thrust, with growing vigor. 

"Keith..."

Keith met his glossy eyes, languishing in the taste of Shiro's briny precum. It coated his tongue and flavored every motion, rendering it smooth and messy as drool and cum dripped down Keith's chin. He only had half a mind to catch what he could on his fingertips, using them to stroke the glands of Shiro's balls as he worked his cock. 

It wasn't long before Shiro bit his last swear in half and shot his load down Keith's throat. Having grown used to it, he kept at it until Shiro's shaking hips went still and the grip in his hair relaxed. Only then did Keith chance to pull back, breathing deep and with a cock-eyed smirk plastered over his lips. 

“That was worth the wait now, yeah?” he asked, his voice husked and teasing. Shiro purred at the sound, his response weak as it leaked into the air. 

“We'll have to do it again. If you'll have me, anyway...” He laughed, but there was a trace of doubt in there. Keith caught it, used to the little signals that all pointed to self-doubt and _you're leaving again, aren't you?_

And while he couldn't help the latter, he nodded anyway. 

“It's a date,” he muttered, standing with a groan and a loud pop resonating from his lower back. His knees ached, and easily gave way as he flopped into Shiro's lap. Shiro smiled, an expression that was as sweet as honey and made Keith's walls decay in the afternoon sun. An expression he leaned into and kissed, his hand wrapped firm around the back of Shiro's neck. 

“There's always time for you.”


End file.
